World Spins Madly On
by steepe
Summary: She can't kiss me there, or touch me here; those places won't keep secrets. And I know all about keeping secrets. What happens when after I've pushed her away, I need her to save me? Brittana, Santana's POV.
1. Misguided Ghosts

So I decided to write another story :) I'm not gonna give any spoilers away, but it will follow Santana as she deals with a lot of things in her life. Slightly A/U, but follows Season 2. Please R&R and let me know if I should continue! Without further ado...

**Chapter One ~ Misguided Ghosts**

The spring downpour outside mimicked the swirling emotions lingering within my body. The overcast and immense gray skies cooled the atmosphere to almost a winter chill. The last thing I wanted to do was put on my uniform and head to school, placating a smile on my dolled up face. The medicine cabinet mirror instead reflected an almost pale complexion, a messy bun of black hair, puffy eyelids, unmanicured and freshly bitten nails, and a sincerity and vulnerability that hadn't surfaced in years.

I opted for a pair of black skinny jeans and an oversized grey hoodie as I pulled on my green chucks and managed to slip into my camero. Being a doctor's daughter had its perks, such as money and popularity, but it also had its downfalls, divorce and empty households. The windshield wipers reflected my blurry vision and understanding, managing to briefly wash away the distractions before they quickly returned. The school parking lot seemed fuller than usual, only fitting that I should have to continue to suffer as I tried to locate an empty space.

Before I had time to duck into first period, the overly shrill voice of Coach Sylvester reverberated through my ears. "Sandbags!" she shouted over the lull of students still littering the hallway. I hesitated to turn toward her, but ultimately knew that if I didn't, she would only shout louder, creating an even more obnoxious scene. "What's with the hobo apparel? If you find the uniform hard to wear, I can easily find someone else who doesn't."

Her words sliced through my broken frame like ice. I knew I had the responsibility of wearing the uniform every day, but for some reason I thought I could manage to slip through the cracks for once. I should have known better than to try and hide from one Sue Sylvester. My eyes searched her, for a tiny hint of understanding, but found none. I opened my mouth to speak but was immediately cut off. "Sorry Coach, she left it at my house last night and I left for school early this morning," a sweet and raspy voice lingered by my side as her frail arm linked with mine.

Coach looked like she wanted to argue, but quickly found another student to yell at in frustration and marched past them, but not before adding a tiny rebuttal, "I better see those ripe melons wrapped in red and white tomorrow S!"

"What were you thinking," the intruder asked vehemently, shaking my attention toward her. I sighed heavily as I quickly placed my signature bitch smirk on my unpolished face. "You're gonna get kicked off the squad."

"What do you care? You're back on top, what should it matter who's beneath your bony ass?" I shot back angrily.

"Because whether you'd like to admit it or not, I know you Santana, and I know Cheerios means more to you than anything else."

"Well maybe you should have thought about that before taking captain away from me."

She looked defeated and confident at the same time, almost like she regretted doing it but still wanted to do it as well. She flicked her hazel eyes downward before returning my gaze. "I only took back what was rightfully mine."

I paused, unable to let her in and see how much I've missed her, missed us. Instead, I continued to allow my bitch façade to take control and lead me through this conversation. "Look, let's get one thing straight, we're not friends Quinn, we both know that whatever we may have had in the past has long vanquished. Secondly, don't pretend like you don't like to be head bitch in charge just as much as I do. You may have everyone else at this school fooled, but just as much as you know me, I know just as much about the real Quinn Fabray. I don't need your help in defending myself to Sue, and I definitely don't need your pity about my extracurricular activities." I purposefully excused myself from this encounter and headed toward English before she even had time to process every word that I'd spat at her.

The day kind of moved forward effortlessly, a few gaping stares and snide remarks about my appearance, but no one dared to question it like Quinn had. I rummaged through my locker for my math book for fourth period as I felt a familiar touch against my forearm. "Did I miss dress down day again?" her voice laced with disappointment as she filled the space next to me.

I couldn't help but chuckle at her obliviousness of my attire, as well as her need of thinking that whatever I did, she ultimately needed to do too. "No Brit," I managed to retort, "you didn't miss anything."

"Then why aren't you in your uniform," she questioned, ultimately allowing her blue eyes to look from her uniform to my chosen outfit for the day.

She deserved to know the truth, that was included in the role of a best friend, honesty. But as I struggled to turn my gaze from those baby blues, I knew I had to lie. "I forgot to wash it last night." The words escape my lips with ease, and I have to struggle between feeling guilty and satisfied at how easily it is to lie to her.

She shrugs and accepts the answer as truth. She doesn't even bother asking why I didn't choose a more attractive look. Before my gut has the chance to betray my deceit, I fake not feeling well and hurry in the opposite direction. All I wanted was to get rid of the ragged emotions coursing through my veins, but my plan had backfired when I showed up to school in this state. I swore to myself that tomorrow would be different, my masquerade would return and there would be no more questions. Classes came and went, and before I knew it I was sitting in the back of glee watching Berry perform another earth shattering solo. I had only been brought to the present due to the unnecessary tugging at the sleeve of my sweatshirt. I looked over to the culprit, and in the process realized that the entire room was staring in my direction.

"Santana," Puck called with one last tug on my arm. My expression must have mimicked my confusion because he continued to point me in the direction of Mr. Schue at the front of the class.

"Do you have something prepared?" The class' gaze continued to linger on me with what seemed like 50 pairs of eyes as Mr. Schue asked with a tiny hint of concern. It was then that I remembered the assignment for this week. Emotions. Monday I had insisted that I had a perfect song to share, for the life of me I couldn't remember why I was so eager to perform. Because now that it was Thursday, I sure as hell didn't feel like climbing down and belting out my emotions in the form of a song.

"Um, I'm actually not feeling very well today. Sorry to disappoint all my fans." I smirk and scan the class, hoping my bitch façade will rectify the situation.

"More like partied too hard last night," Kurt retorts, eyeing my baggie hoodie with disgust as he rolls his eyes. His reply is answered by a few snickers as the class returns their attention to Mr. Schue.

Hating them all with the disgust in myself for my inability to hide my problems, I quickly stand to show them that Santana never backs down from a challenge, nor does she take shit from a bunch of misfits like the glee club. "Actually I do have something planned."

I take my stance in the middle of the floor, secretly hating myself for doing this, but at the same time reveling in the attention. The music begins and I immediately lose my thought process as the rhythm overtakes me.

"_See I'm trying to find my place, but it might not be here where I feel safe. We all learn to make mistakes."_

I close my eyes as Puck picks up his guitar and begins to strum along.

"_And run from them, from them, with no direction. We'll run from them, from them, with no conviction."_

Without hesitation, Mercedes joins Puck and I on the floor and the two of them join in as the chorus begins.

"_Cause I'm just one of those ghosts, traveling endlessly. Don't need no roads, in fact they follow me. And we just go in circles."_

Puck continues to play as Mercedes hums in the background of the second verse.

"_Well now I'm told that this is life, and pain is just a simple compromise. So we can get what we want out of it."_

Their voices rejoin in harmony with mine.

"_We are just misguided ghosts, traveling endlessly. The ones we trusted the most, pushed us far away. And there's no one road, we should not be the same. But I'm just a ghost, and still they echo me."_

Their voices die out as Puck strums the last chord on the guitar and I finish the song.

"_They echo me in circles."_

The applause reverberates throughout the tiny classroom as I smile and head back to my seat. "Beautifully done Santana. A great window into the life of the girl behind the popularity."

"Yeah who knew you actually had a soul underneath all that," Rachel quickly adds before realizing the words had left her mouth. She looks surprised by her own reply and immediately stammers to save herself. "I enjoyed it," she adds with a tiny smile.

Mr. Schue tries to rectify the situation, knowing that if given the opportunity I would fight back. "Alright class, anyone else have a song prepared for this week's assignment?" The spotlight dims from me, allowing me the chance to breathe again since I started the song. No one knew what the words really mean to me. Everyone assumed it was about being popular and a Cheerio, I guess that's what my reputation has afforded me.

Before Quinn can profess her love for Sam through public song again, the bell rings and I immediately grab my bag and head towards the door. However, luck must not be on my side today because my arm is quickly grasped by Mr. Schue. "Santana can I talk to you for a minute?" His eyes plead for me to give him a minute of my time. I nod and roll my eyes as the rest of the class exits. He shuffles to the piano and gathers the sheet music on top. "I noticed you seemed a little…unlike yourself today." He says this with hesitancy, not wanting to rub me the wrong way I suppose. Why does everyone think I'm going to bite their heads off all the time. Oh wait, I do.

"So it's abnormal to not feel well once in a while?"

"I didn't say that." He quickly tries to find the right words to say, knowing this conversation isn't going the way he wants it to. I never gave him the chance to have a quality conversation. "I'm only making sure everything is okay. I know everyone can have a bad day every now and then, and it certainly doesn't help when Kurt and Rachel…"

"I can take care of myself." I cut him off angrily. "And in case you haven't noticed, I'm pretty sure I've said worse things to them, or about them, whatever same thing. Look Mr. Sweater Vest, it's not a crime to be different for a day, but don't think for one second I have issues and need your saving." I vacate the spot I had been standing, leaving him stunned and defeated. Tomorrow would be different. Tomorrow had to be different.

It was like I couldn't breathe, but nothing was strangling or suffocating me. Everything hurt, all of a sudden every nerve was firing within. I needed my numbness back, the sense of normalcy I had created in my life, because this feeling crap thing was not working for me. I made it to my car before my breakdown began. I could no longer hold my salty emotions in as they streaked their way down my cheeks. I needed release, and I needed it now. Fumbling through my purse I located the object of my desire. Closing my eyes, I allowed myself to feel numb once more, complete satisfaction mixed with salt and pain as the rain continued to beat against my car.


	2. White Blank Page

Thanks so much for the reviews. I'm so excited for this story, and I hope I do it justice. Just to clarify, current couples are Finn/Rachel, Quinn/Sam, Mike/Tina, Artie/Brittany. Puck and Santana continue to full around, but aren't dating. Also, Lauren is not going to be in this story. I LOVE her character, but I need Puck and Santana to be sex buddies. Also, Kurt never left New Directions, so there is no Blaine. Hopefully that takes away any confusion, the rest is supposed to be a mystery that you'll figure out as the story continues. Please continue to express your thoughts and concerns :) So without further ado...

**Chapter Two – White Blank Page**

"San?" I heard the familiar nickname being called from the downstairs. It was customary that Brittany would spend the night when dad was working the ER shift, which happened to be four nights of the week. Her bouncing body appeared in my doorway seconds later, however she wasn't alone.

"What is she doing here?" I immediately barked, not necessarily angry that she was here, but more so that she thought she had the right to be here.

"San," Brittany immediately pleaded, those blue eyes melting away any anger that I had previously harbored.

"Whatever," I rolled my eyes as I continued to apply a fresh coat of black nail polish to my toenails.

"I'm solely here to make sure the three of us come up with a suitable routine for tomorrow. You've already managed to piss Coach off once this week. If we fail to produce something that she deems worth while, I can guarantee all three of us will make up the bottom of the pyramid at Nationals." Quinn breathed as she took in her surroundings. It had been a few months since she had been here, and I'm sure the new decorations failed to go unnoticed.

My mind raced to the memories the three of us had in here when we were younger. My walls had been pink then, each piece of furniture displaying various girly activities, especially cheerleading. Now, my walls were black, a Bob Marley poster hung on the wall above my bed. Citizen Cope played nonchalantly in the background, as a stick of incense burned on my desk. The environment proved to be hard for her to take in, cause her posture immediately looked uneasy, signaling she felt awkward and out of place. We once had so much in common, but the look in her eyes proved we no longer shared anything. Except for the other blonde in the room.

Brittany made herself at home, lounging gracefully on my bed. She had never questioned me when I decided on the new décor, and she even helped me paint and redecorate. I continued to sit Indian-style on the floor doing my nails, as Quinn hesitantly took a seat at my desk.

"What do you have in mind?" I hissed, refusing to acknowledge her comment about my earlier display of 'disrespect'.

"No clue. I was hoping one of you had a suggestion."

"I think we should do Ke$ha," Brittany replied, playing with a strand of gold by her face. She was breathtakingly adorable, and I had to physically force myself to look away in order to continue to participate in the conversation. "Or Gaga. Maybe Britney?"

"Coach hates Britney Spears, remember what happened when we sang Toxic at the assembly?" Quinn promptly interceded. "So I doubt she's gonna like Gaga or Ke$ha."

"She loves Madonna though," Brittany added with excitement.

"We did a Madonna routine last year Brit." Quinn offered apologetically.

I sat in silence as I listened to them banter back and forth, usually Brit offering an artist or song, and Quinn turning it down as nicely as she could. My nails were dry, and I was bored. More importantly, from the moment I saw Brit enter with her boy shorts and tank top, I wanted her all to myself. It was never my thing to have an audience, and the presence of the shorter blonde at my desk was suddenly aggravating me. I knew she wasn't going to leave until we had a routine.

"Q, remember the routine we did in 7th grade at Summer Camp?" I interrupted.

Her attention refocused on me, slightly taken back from my outburst. "Yeah, why?"

"I think that would work perfectly to Rihanna's new song, don't you think?" I quirked my eyebrow, expecting her to challenge me, but was elated when I received a nod of approval. "Great! So why don't you edit the music for the routine, and I'll teach it to Brit later tonight." It was more of a statement than a question. Lucky for her, Quinn got the hint.

"Sounds good. I'll see you guys tomorrow," she added as her tiny frame exited my room, followed by the sound of the front door seconds later.

I took no time to wait for her approval, and quickly leapt from my spot on the floor and planted my lips to hers. She had used the perfume that I bought her for Christmas, selfishly only getting it so I could specifically smell it on her, and the scent alone caused my knees to buckle and I flattened her to the bed abruptly. She gasped, and I took this opportunity to thrust my tongue inside her angelic lips. She willingly accepted, and a smirk played at the corner of my mouth. My hands managed to roam toward her face, and immediately they were tangled in her golden locks.

"San," she breathed, unable to find her voice as it was lost in pleasure.

"Hmm," I mumbled against her lips, smiling, and returning to work.

"What's wrong?" she asked hesitantly. The sincerity and worry caught me by surprise, and I instantly tried to play it off as nothing by kissing my way across her jaw line. "I'm serious." She half-yelled to get my attention as well as keep herself from giving in to me.

"Am I doing something you don't like?" I teased, allowing my tongue to grace her pulse point on her neck. She shuddered beneath me at the contact. A few seconds later, her palms compressed against my shoulders, and she pushed back, physically separating us. "What the hell Brittany?" I snapped, and at once regretted it.

Her eyes darted away from my stare. "I can't do this," her voice barely audible as she was obviously afraid of upsetting me any further.

"Yes you can." I dove back to her, greedily needing her lips to save me.

Her hands flew up in protest, and I angrily removed myself from her and went back to the floor. I dove into the new issue of Cosmo with a huff. Silence lingered awkwardly, the only sound coming from her subtle movements as she shifted her position. It wasn't until her feet were firmly planted on the floor that I realized she had been collecting her things in preparation to leave. "I just remembered I promised my sister that I'd watch a movie with her tonight." She fumbled with her words, and I looked up in horror.

Traces of tears lingered at the corners of her eyes, and my heart broke at the sight. I had obviously hurt her, but instead of consoling her, I hardened my heart, straightened my posture, and nodded in vague understanding. "See you tomorrow," I uttered as I drew my attention back to the article that I was pretending to read. I was being a bitch, and it was uncalled for, but that was my role. Santana Lopez. Bitch.

She remained standing by the bed, I'm assuming that she was hoping I'd change my ways, apologize, talk to her. But I didn't. I stood my ground, and she left defeated.

I hated myself even more, if that were possible. She was only caring, and it wasn't like she was wrong in assuming something. But these were my problems to deal with; I couldn't live with myself if she knew the truth. Too many emotions were causing my head and heart to throb in pain, and I desperately needed to rid myself of feeling. I walked in a daze toward my adjacent bathroom and opened the medicine cabinet. Stuffed discretely behind facial cleansers was what I needed. Hoisting my left sleeve above my elbow, I watched as a single tear trickled down my cheek as my feelings evaporated with ease.

As I entered school the next morning, I made sure my signature smirk was placed across my face. I strutted down the halls in my uniform, the ruffles of the skirt swaying slightly with every step. My fingernails were sporting black polish, which matched my smoky eye makeup. Each strand of my dark hair was pulled neatly into a ponytail, the ends curled to perfection. No one dared to look me in the eyes, my role as bitch in charge securely in place once more.

I greeted Brit at her locker, linking my pinky with hers before she could protest, and pulled her toward the choir room. She knew this gesture meant that yesterday never happened. We took our seats, pinkies still clasped, as Mr. Schue entered. "Well this weeks assignment of emotions is just about over, and I was thinking that we could do a group number as its finale." Of course Rachel and Finn responded with matching smiles and handclaps.

"I have the perfect number," Rachel insisted.

"Actually I've already picked it," Mr. Schue countered.

"Please not Journey, please not Journey." Kurt mumbled as he crossed his fingers.

Mr. Schue began to hand out the sheet music, pausing to watch Rachel's skeptical reaction. "I don't see how this has to do with this week's assignment." She hissed, glancing a look at the other members for their approval.

"Are you kidding?" Artie argued.

"Yeah this song is laced with emotion," Tina chimed in smiling at her ex. Artie hesitantly smiled back before reverting his gaze.

"It's like the ultimate song of heartbreak and pain." Kurt smiled; I'm assuming he hoped to get the male solo.

"I cried the first time I heard it." Everybody's attention warped to Sam. "What? It's a really good song," he defended, a small blush rising to the surface of his cheeks. Quinn quickly placed a comforting hand on his thigh and squeezed lightly.

I chuckled and rolled my eyes at his obnoxiousness and returned my gaze to the person whose finger I still grasped. I caught her gaze and realized she had been staring at me. I smiled shyly before turning back to Mr. Schue as he announced who would sing which parts.

The music began as Quinn, Brit, and I sucked in air and hoped that Sue would be impressed with our routine. Since Brittany had left last night, I had to convince Quinn to teach her the routine during lunch today. When asked why I couldn't do it, I lied about having to talk to the crazy guidance counselor about how my home life's been since my parents got divorced and crap. We moved through each step flawlessly as Rihanna's S&M blared from the speakers, the rest of the squad littering the bleachers. We ended with smiles, waiting anxiously for her response.

She stood in silence for what seemed like hours before lifting the bullhorn to her mouth. "Not impressed, but good enough for our starter for Nationals." Our grins grew broader as we began to move from our ending positions. "However," there it was, the criticism we knew all too well. "Next time you plan on looking and acting like members of a team, I better see matching uniforms," she barked before handing her bullhorn to Becky and motioning for the rest of the girls to quickly learn the routine.

The three of us glanced confusingly at one another, until we realized the source of her comment. I had been wearing my white underarmour top underneath my vest, and they were not. They stared at me, relaying with their eyes for me to remove it before we performed the routine with the squad. "I'm not taking it off." It wasn't an accident that I had put it on this morning, nor was there a chance in hell I was taking it off. I didn't see what the big deal was; this was only practice, who cared if I had an extra article of clothing on.

"Did you not just hear her?" Quinn shot at me. "Take it off now!"

"Um, let me think…how bout I don't, and the rest of you put yours on. It's still like 40 degrees outside, so instead of looking like winter prostitutes, maybe you should cover yourself up."

Quinn held my gaze in an unnecessary stare down. "I'm captain, and I say take the damn thing off." Her words laced with furry at my notion of thinking I was in charge and had the right to decide what we wore.

"Honey, just cause you're captain, doesn't make you queen of this school. That is earned." I smirked, arching my eyebrow for her to challenge me.

"Oh is that why you sleep with every body loitering the hallways? I didn't realize being a _slut_ meant _queen_!"

My hand connected with her face before her words had the chance to hang in the air. It was the second time I had slapped her this year, and this time it felt even better. I wanted to take out all my anger toward her, Sue, Mr. Schue, glee club, myself, on her. She turned back toward me, and I slapped her again, this time on her other cheek. She turned to fight back, pushing me hard, almost causing me to lose my balance and fall to the floor. I shoved back, but her hands connected with my ponytail and she yanked so hard I thought I felt chunks of my extensions leave my scalp. I screamed as I in turn pulled at her blonde locks. Brittany's hands tugged at both of our shoulders, pulling us apart with ease. Damn her and her freaking dancing muscles. I wasn't near done rearranging Quinn's face.

Before I knew it, Coach Sylvester was standing over us, pushing both of us back with enough force to knock us off our feet. "What the hell is wrong with you two?" She seethed, disgust spitting at us on the floor. "If I wanted fighting cheerios I would have put hyenas on the squad. They'd look a lot better in those damn uniforms, and they'd sure as hell dance a lot better!" I scowled back at her, seething with just as much rage. Quinn fucking started it. Quinn was the fucking captain. She should be the only one getting yelled at right now. "One of you desperate housewives wannabes better tell me what's going on before I kick you both of my squad."

"It seems Ms. Perfect has a problem with taking orders." I jeered, rolling my eyes for a greater effect.

"Listen here jellyfish chest, I appointed Q for the simple fact that she's my second in command." This was not going to end well. "Therefore if I'm not barking orders at you losers, then she better be because it's obvious this squad needs some form of dictatorship or it becomes the next installment of Jerry Springer."

"In case you haven't noticed, it takes two to fight, and I'm pretty sure I wasn't ripping my own hair out." I shot back, knowing very well I was crossing so many lines.

She hesitated, obviously shocked by my blatant disrespect for authority at the moment. "I think both of you can learn something from a two week suspension from my squad of winners."

"But Coach," Quinn began, but the look on Coach's face told her that her decision was final, and she walked away with Becky nipping at her heels like her personal Chihuahua. I stood up to leave, but was halted when Quinn began shouting at me. "Just because you're going through a midlife crisis does not mean you have to drag me to hell with you." I turned around and saw the tears leaking from her hazel eyes. Being the cheerio captain meant everything to her, possibly more than it meant to me.

"Whatever, maybe you should learn to listen to me next time." I rolled my eyes as I turned to walk away, Brittany following suit, I assume right after giving Quinn an apologetic look for me.

The music began as we took our places on the stage. Rachel stepped forward singing, "_Can you lie next to her, and give her your heart, your heart, as well as your body_."

Then Quinn walked up next to her, singing the next line, "_And can you lie next to her and confess your love, your love, as well as your folly_."

Everyone's gaze shifted to Mercedes as she began singing, "_And can you kneel before the king and say I'm clean, I'm clean_."

Mercedes walked over to Kurt, as Rachel started singing again, "_But tell me now where was my fault, in loving you with my whole heart?_"

This time, Quinn joined Rachel as they both sang, "_But tell me now where was my fault, in loving you with my whole heart?_"

As the music interlude continued, we moved swiftly between one another, subtle dancing as Mr. Schue had put it in the directions.

Puck and Sam harmonized as Finn sang, "_A white blank page, and a swelling rage, rage_."

Mercedes harmonized for Kurt as he sang, "_You did not think, when you sent me to the brink, the brink_."

I harmonized as Brittany sang, "_You desired my attention, but denied my affections, my affections_." As I heard her angelic voice sing these words, I almost laughed at how ironic her chosen section of the song had been. I secretly wondered if she had noticed how true her solo was for the two of us.

Tina stepped forward and began to sing, "_So tell me now where was my fault, in loving you with my whole heart?_"

Artie wheeled toward, and joined her as they sang, "_Oh tell me now where was my fault, in loving you with my whole heart?_"

The second musical interlude began, and we continued with our 'subtle dancing'. All of us sang the bridge of melodious "_Ahhs_". As the rest of them continued with their harmonies, I stepped forward and began to sing my chosen solo, "_Lead me to the truth and I, will follow you with my whole life. Oh lead me to the truth and I, will follow you with my whole life_."

Mike danced eloquently as the last musical interlude played, us swaying effortlessly behind him. We finished the song with all of us belting out another round of "_Ahhs_," swiftly bowing our heads as the music ended.

Besides my suspension from cheerios, which I didn't really care all that much about, I was right about today being a much better today. No one asked what was wrong, nor did I get any ridiculous looks of concern. Hiding was becoming easier every day, and I was pleased at this realization, as well as a little scared at how simple it was to create such a life that was a complete lie.


	3. Many Of Horror

Thank you for the reviews. This is where things start to get interesting! This chapter takes place over episodes 2x15 and 2x16. I can't express what this story means to me, so please R&R and let me know what you think. So without further ado...

**Chapter 3 – Many Of Horror**

Alcohol awareness week had landed at McKinley High School, and of course Puck had convinced Rachel to throw a party in response. He came over to my house before hand, and we managed to fit in a quickie before driving to pick Artie and Brittany up. The basement was decorated like one of those living rooms that you only have for decoration and not for actual living. Besides the enormous bar and stage, I would have thought I was at Quinn's house. Puck and I quickly found the sofa as I straddled him and fused my lips to his.

Quinn and Sam arrived shortly later. The bruises on her face gave me complete satisfaction, and I immediately shot a smirk in her direction. Her eyebrows furrowed, but she turned her attention elsewhere, obviously trying to be on her best behavior tonight. It didn't take long for the rest of the gang to gather in the tiny room, and the party began. The guys sat around a table and began to play quarters while all the girls took a tequila shot. Quinn hesitated, but I guess decided to fuck it because her shot glass was filled with a second before mine even hit the counter.

Moments later, and several shots deep, the room began to swirl as my vision blurred. Everything seemed hysterical, and I couldn't contain myself from laughing as Kurt tripped and fell off the stage. Quinn had joined the guys at quarters, wrapping her scarf around her head like a turban, and covering her eyes with her bug-eyed sunglasses. I had positioned myself next to a shirtless Brittany and proceeded to do a body shot off of her toned stomach. Mike and Tina began to tap-dance across the floor as Artie started rapping "Like a G6".

It didn't take long for everyone to be completely wasted, besides Finn who had for some reason decided to be the responsible one. I think it was partly due to the fact that his virgin girlfriend had never drank before, and he wanted to make sure she didn't do anything that she would later regret. Too late. "Who wants to play spin the bottle?" she slurred.

We gathered in a circle around a makeshift tabletop consisting of a Checkers board game. Of course Brittany had taken it upon herself to go first, and the bottle landed on Sam. She smiled widely as they leaned in and planted their lips together. I noticed a hesitant look on Quinn's face before I returned my gaze toward them as they parted. Sam spun next, the bottle stopping on a stunned Mercedes.

Mercedes displayed a drunken grin as their lips met in an innocent and quick peck. She spun next, giving her the opportunity to kiss her best friend as it landed on Kurt. Things moved relatively unusual until after Rachel and Mike exchanged a kiss, she had spun and landed on Quinn. The guys in the room immediately cheered in approval as both girls began to blush. Quinn took another sip of her drink before leaning toward the brunette and yanking their bodies together in a heated kiss. Brittany locked her eyes with mine as the girls began to giggle and pull apart.

"I didn't know you had that in you Berry," Puck commended. "I mean I already knew you could get Quinn to do anything if she was drunk enough, but you…" Quinn uttered a fuck you as she returned to her spot next to Sam. Things continued as Quinn was forced to kiss Artie, and then, with the help of Brittany, Artie spun and the bottle slowed to a halt in front of me.

"No way," I immediately shouted. "You're my best friend's boyfriend. That has to be like incest in some cultures." My words were highly slurred, and obviously didn't help present my case because the group expressed their disproval at my conclusion. Rolling my eyes, I walked toward him and placed a chaste kiss upon his lips. Without delay I spun and landed on Puck.

"That shouldn't be allowed." Tina groaned, leaning her drunken head on Mike's shoulder. "You guys kiss all the time."

"Yeah, a redo is definitely a must," Kurt added.

Begrudgingly I spun again, this time it stopped at Brittany. My heart jumped. This was nothing new either, but of course the group had no qualms in allowing this interaction to take place. The guys were more than thrilled to have two Sapphic make-out sessions in one evening. Her drunken hands were at the back of my head before I knew it, and I was pulled into her, colliding with those lips that I adored. I had to force myself to pull away after a few minutes before things turned to more than kissing like they often did between us, the alcohol definitely not helping with decision-making.

Rachel of course convinced the group to sing, and we eventually gathered on the stage and performed a not-so-put-together rendition of "Buy You A Drank". After downing a few more shots, the insides of my stomach began to churn violently, and I had to excuse myself to the bathroom before I spewed its contents into the toilet. My hair stuck to the sweat coating my face and neck, and I had to rest my head against the porcelain commode in order to stop the room from spinning.

There was a soft knock at the door as I turned to see Quinn entering. "I'm fine," I hissed, not wanting anyone to see me like this, and especially not wanting her to be the one to take care of me.

"Obviously not, or you wouldn't be plunging your face into the instrument that at one point contained Rachel Berry's waste products." I gagged at the immediate imagery that formed, swearing at Quinn for giving such a horrific detail. "Well it's true," she shrugged as she knelt to pull my hair into a messy bun in order to keep it free of my vomit.

After a moment of pause that followed a second round of puking, I turned to Quinn and managed to mutter something along the lines of "why are you being so nice to me". I had to keep my eyes closed tight to avoid becoming dizzy, and I soon fell to the floor, my head landing in her lap.

She hesitantly began to stroke my hair out of my face, followed by small circles on my back. "Well because I know Brittany would normally be doing this if she wasn't currently passed out on the stage downstairs. And while Puck can be a great lay, he isn't much for the compassionate thing, so I figured you needed someone."

"But why you? After what happened?" I wasn't sure if I was making any sense, but obviously she got the gist of what I was trying to say because she answered without fault.

"Because at one point the three of us were friends Santana, and I wasn't exactly innocent in the fights that have occurred since. Plus, Brittany muttered something about being concerned about you…"

"What?" I raised my voice, starting to sit up, as the room grew dizzy. "How dare she talk about me to you."

"S that girl loves you. She practically worships the ground you walk on. She noticed you were drinking a lot tonight, and just whispered to me to look out for you, that's all."

"I'm pretty sure I'm not the only who drank tonight," arching my eyebrow at her, hinting toward her kiss with Rachel.

"True, but you are the only one hacking their guts into the toilet." I didn't really know what to say, and truth be told, I was tired of arguing. Most importantly I felt sick again. Her hands were at my back as another round of liquid moved its way in reverse through my digestive system.

I rummaged through my locker as Brittany's hands tickled my sides before she rested against the row of lockers next to me. "How you feeling?"

"Fine," I answered curtly, placing a notebook into my book bag.

"Sorry I wasn't there for you."

"It's ok. It's not like it's the first time I was sick from drinking," I laughed, receiving a gentle smile from her. We walked together toward the choir room, only to be greeted by Ms. Holliday.

"How nice of you two to finally join us," she jeered, motioning for us to take out seats.

"I invited Ms. Holliday here today because it's come to my attention that some of you don't really know the details of…um…intimate situations." The class giggled as Ms. Holliday stepped forward and began to talk about the birds and the bees. Since sex was not some foreign mystery to me, I drowned her out as I looked down at Brittany's hand tentatively on Artie's shoulder. I pulled my phone from my bag and quickly typed a text to her. Her phone vibrated against her thigh.

_Tonight. My house. Sweet lady kisses. _

I saw the corners of her mouth curl into a smile as she typed a response.

_Be there after my date with Artie._

I felt my stomach churn again, but this time I fought the urge to be sick. So what if she had a date, she would still be finishing the night with me.

Her lips tasted like heaven against mine; like humid, summer rain when thunderstorms roll through at nighttime. The sweat on her upper lip tasted like salty perfection as it mixed within my mouth. Her soft hands gently grazed my exposed ribcage, sending a wave of shivers through my core. My lips shuddered against hers and she let out a small giggle, obviously enjoying the effect she had over me. A shy finger meekly touched the underside of my breast, and I couldn't help but let out a small moan. She wasted no time in taking my bottom lip into her mouth and bit down.

"Brit," I managed to gasp, slightly shocked, slightly turned on.

"You know I've always wanted to be a vampire." She giggled, moving from my lips to my neck. "And you never let me bite you here," she whispers against the most sensitive spot on my neck.

"You know why," I breathe, silently hating myself for allowing her to have these effects on me. I can force my mind to be as standoffish as possible, but there was no way of hiding the way my body literally responded to everything she did. Each word she whispered to me created millions of goose bumps across my tanned flesh. Each trace of fingertips on my flesh sent shivers down my spine. Each strategically placed kiss forced a thrust of approval.

"I know, we're a secret." Her tone turned to utter disappointment, "and hickeys don't keep secrets." Her head turned to the side as she faked interest in something out the window. I cautiously looked down at her, making sure I sketched every part of her into my brain. The beauty lying beneath me didn't compare to any of the other people who had inhabited that spot before.

I tentatively reached down to slide a strand of her hair off of her face, and that's when I noticed a tear-stained streak traveling down her cheek. I had to forcibly gulp down the lump that had immediately formed in my throat. She refused to look at me as she hiccupped away more tears. "I'm sorry," I whispered, knowing the words didn't mean shit.

"Do you love me?" Her words were barely above a whisper, I think almost hoping I wouldn't hear her, and honestly I think if a car had driven by at that exact moment I wouldn't have.

I froze, and she immediately felt my body tense. I tried to quickly speak in order to alleviate the growing tension. "Brit, you know I care about you…"

"I didn't ask if you cared Santana, I asked if you loved me?" She still refused to look at me as her words became louder and harsher. This Brittany was rare, and I always hated when she surfaced.

All I could come up with was "why?"

Now she looked at me. Her blue eyes were laced with liquid, and with each blink they seeped down her already blotchy cheeks. Now it was my turn to look away, I couldn't see her like this, especially knowing I was the cause for it. "Artie told me that he loved me today."

"What does that have to do with me?" I choked back my own sobs.

"I couldn't say it back." She paused as the words lingered between us. "I couldn't say it because I don't love him….not like I love…" She was crying hard now. I screamed/begged for her to stop, just to stop before she broke my heart into oblivion. She was quiet and still for a while, until her hands softly placed themselves on either side of my face. "Look at me," she commanded.

I couldn't. If I looked at her, I would immediately need to excuse myself to the bathroom for a release.

"Look at me!" This time she yelled and physically turned my face with her hands. Our eyes met and I couldn't hold it in any longer.

"Brittany let me go!" I cried. I fought within her grasp, trying to free myself and rid me of her touch.

"NO!"

"Let me fucking go!"

"NO! Just say it. Tell me you love me." Her words were full of anger, and I needed to get to the bathroom before I unraveled. I fought hard against her, but she was too strong.

"Brittany, if you don't let me go, I swear to god…"

"What? Are you gonna hit me like you hit Quinn!" She spat.

That was all it took before I snapped. I quickly shifted my position until I could easily pin her arms to the bed. I ripped off her panties with enough force to dig my fingernails into her skin. I angrily scratched at her thighs before I thrust inside her. "Is this what you want?" I yelled, harshly pushing another finger inside of her.

"San stop, you're starting to scare me." The anger in her voice was gone. But it was too late, I was releasing my anger and hatred, and I couldn't be stopped.

"You want me to fucking tell you how I feel?" I added another finger, pushing in with enough force that she elicited a small cry of pain.

"San stop, you're hurting me," she cried, trying to push me away from her. But my fueled adrenaline caused me to have more strength, and her futile attempts didn't faze me.

"Does everything need to be fucking analyzed with you?" My movements became quicker as I became more heated. "Are you that stupid that I need to explain every detail of life to you?" My free hand clawed at her bare breasts, squeezing them hard, leaving marks across her flawless skin.

"Santana please," she was crying freely, screams and sobs echoed off my walls. My eyes burned with fury as I took out all my anger on her. I furiously added a fourth finger that immediately caused her to shriek in immense pain. I looked down and quickly noticed the pool of red seeping from within her. It was then I realized what I had done, what I was doing to her. I looked from my fingers within her to her pain stricken face and immediately felt sick. I hastily removed myself from her and ran to the bathroom without looking back. The lock clicked behind me as I collapsed on the floor. What I had just done hurt worse than every mark that littered my arm underneath my long-sleeve tee. I had made sure to keep this article of clothing on as we were fooling around, trying to keep my troubles from hurting her, but in the end, I had hurt her far more than I could have imagined.

I pulled my bare legs up to my chest, and curled my small frame around them. Every sob caused my body to shake violently. I had utterly ruined the best thing that had ever happened to me, all because I was afraid of telling her how I truly felt. All because I was afraid of letting her in and seeing the real me. All because I was afraid that once she really saw who I was, she wouldn't love me in return. I heard the front door open and close moments later, and the realization of being alone settled in as I closed my eyes and laid against the cool tile floor.

The last thing I wanted to do was go to school the next day. But since my dad happened to conveniently appear that morning, it was impossible to skip. I managed to make it to my locker and first period without seeing her. I knew she had to hate me. Hell, I hated me. Somehow, I had avoided her all day, that was until glee. I made my way to the back, hoping I could sit there without notice until I could rush home. I feigned interest in something in my notebook as Ms. Holliday told the class that a student had prepared a number that they wanted to share.

The music started and I continued to doodle on a sheet of paper, until the person opened their mouth and began to sing. I could recognize that voice in a crowded mall. I immediately looked up, and my eyes locked on her gorgeous blue orbs.

"You say I love you, boy. I know you lie. I trust you all the same. I don't know why." Her eyes darted away from me and scanned the rest of the classroom. I knew instantly that these words were directed toward me, but she still respected me enough to not make that obvious to the rest of the class. "Cause when my back is turned, my bruises shine. Our broken fairy tale, so hard to hide."

She walked toward Artie and slouched in front of him. "I still believe, it's you and me 'till the end of time." She rocked her way back toward the center, twirling her head around as her hair flew effortlessly in space. "When we collide we come together. If we don't we'll always be apart. I'll take a bruise, I know you're worth it. When you hit me, hit me hard."

The music continued as she flailed in circles. The words she sang reopened the wounds across my arm. "Cause you said love was letting us go against what our future is for many of horror. Our future's for many of horror. I still believe, it's you and me 'till the end of time. When we collide we come together. If we don't, we'll always be apart. I'll take a bruise, I know you're worth it. When you hit me, hit me hard." The music faded as she came to a stop in the middle of the floor, the class erupting into applause and cheers.

"While I commend you for managing to display sexiness and pain in one song, I have to comment that nothing about physical abuse is sexy." Ms. Holliday chimed in as she placed her hands on Brittany's shoulders. She nodded in understanding as she tried to catch her breath. "But I think all of you could learn a thing or two from Brittany and her raw and emotional way of expressing herself."

I wanted to cry. I wanted to laugh. I wanted to die. Not only had she just serenaded me, unbeknownst to the rest, she subtlety told me that not only did she not hate me, she believed I was worth the risk. She believed in me enough to stand by me through all the pain. I suddenly refused to hide from her any longer. I wanted her, and I'd be damned if I was gonna allow my fucked-up-self to push her away anymore.

The bell rang for last period as I approached her at her locker. "Can we talk?" She looked surprised to see me, but nodded her head in agreement. "I wanted to thank you for performing that song in glee club. Because it's made me do a lot of thinking. And what I realized is why I'm such a bitch all the time. I'm a bitch because I'm angry. I'm angry because I have all of these feelings, feelings for you, that I'm afraid of dealing with because I'm afraid of dealing with the consequences." I paused, a tear easily releasing itself down my cheek. I looked her in the eye, trying to grasp that she was comprehending what I was saying. "Do you understand what I'm trying to say?"

She shook her head innocently, "no not really."

I turned away, inhaling deeply to try and calm my increasing nerves. "I want to be with you, but I'm afraid of the talks and the looks. I'm so afraid of what everyone will say behind my back." I swallowed the lump that grew in my throat, resisting the urge to cry uncontrollably into her. "I'm afraid of letting you in and seeing the real me because I'm afraid of what will happen when I allow myself to be that vulnerable." Her lips tightened in concern as she allowed me to continue, obviously afraid that if she interrupted, I would immediately realize the error of my ways and retreat back down the hall.

"Still, I have to accept that I love you. I love you, and I don't want Puck, or any of those other guys, I just want you." The weight of these words created a barrier between us. This is what she wanted to hear, and I was finally able to give it to her. "Please say you love me back. Please." I choked.

She paused, the muscles in her face tightening in sorrow. "Of course I love you. I do. And I would totally be with you if it wasn't for Artie." The anguish was evident in her voice.

I looked at her in confusion, "Artie?"

"I don't want to hurt him, that's not right. I can't break up with him."

"Yes you can. He's just a stupid boy. And you were just telling me last night that you didn't love him."

"A lot of things happened last night Santana."

"But…what about the song?" I stammered, all hope within was evaporating with every confession she was making.

"I wanted you to know that I didn't hate you. You refused to tell me how you felt, so I decided to pursue things with him and see where they went." She paused, a lone tear sliding from her eye. "Santana, you have to know, if Artie and I were to ever break up, and I'm lucky enough that you're still single, I'm so yours. Proudly so." She tried to give a reassuring smile, but I could no longer express emotions as my heart refused to feel anything anymore. I felt led to the top of a cliff, and then told to jump off blindly. But instead of landing in water, spiky rocks welcomed my torso.

I refused to break down in front of her. I turned and walked swiftly back down the hall and immediately to the girls bathroom next to the cafeteria. Locking myself within one of the stalls, I pulled the razor blade from my purse and began to use my arm as an etch-a-sketch to express how I was feeling. This was the only way of expressing my feelings that hadn't let me down. How had my life become this ridiculous episode of The O.C. I was Santana Lopez. I wasn't supposed to be spending my time crying in the bathroom. I was supposed to be making others cry in the bathroom. Something had to change, and something had to change now.


	4. Bittersweet Symphony

Thank you so much for the reviews! I really like this chapter, and I hope you will too. Some of Santana's past is starting to be revealed. Please continue with your support and comments!

**Chapter Four – Bittersweet Symphony**

I immediately hunted Puck down and pulled him toward the girl's locker room. I pushed my lips against his so forcefully that I managed to draw blood. Getting the hint that I wanted, no needed sex now, in one swift motion he had me pinned against the row of red lockers. His tongue probed my mouth, and although I was thoroughly disgusted, I welcomed it.

"Do you have…" I breathed.

"Yeah," he panted, pushing my skin-tight dress up in one fluid motion. With him everything was rushed, movements full of force, rough even. With her, time seemed to stand still, we savored each moment, everything was soft and gentle. But I needed the roughness, the dirtiness of it all to rid me of everything I had just said to her.

Lifting me up against the lockers and forcing my legs around his waist, he thrust inside me within seconds. I felt dirty and used, but I liked the hollow feeling it gave me. His hand roughly grabs my arm and I wince in pain. He assumes it was a distaste in pace, and he quickly begins pumping in and out more fiercely. It was over soon, and as he walked away, I noticed the blood stain through my jacket; his rough hands reopening the fresh cuts.

I walked into the choir room late, having to take care of the blood on my sleeve, and I immediately noticed her eyes on me. I avoided them at all cost and sat down next to Puck.

"This week's assignment is movie soundtracks," Mr. Schue began, Rachel beamed in excitement. "But it can't be a musical," and her expression quickly plummeted. "I don't care what the movie is, nor the genre, but it is important to pick a song that reflects the overall movie, to show how great of an impact music has in cinema."

"Can I have my best friend back?" I turn to see her propped against the locker next to me.

"What are you talking about?" I seethe.

"I miss you."

"I'm right here."

"You know what I mean."

"As far as I'm concerned, you chose Artie, and therefore you have a new best friend. So why don't you go see where cripple's at and leave me alone." I absolutely hate being mean to her, but it hurts too much to be around her now.

"That isn't fair." She sounded broke, fragile, helpless.

"Well, life's not fair.

"You're right, it isn't." She was now shouting, and I glance around us in panic, hoping no one was paying attention. "You're so pissed at me because I apparently chose Artie over you, but in reality I chose you first. And it was you who shut me down. Just because now you're ready to stop being a coward does not make it right for me to end things with him." She paused, obviously trying to stop herself from crying. "Everything was complicated with us, there were too many rules and limitations. With him, it's simple and easy. I can kiss him in public. I don't have to limit our conversations in school. I'm so happy and proud of you for what you said, I just…I just wish you would have said it sooner." With that she was on her heels and walking away. I couldn't be mad, I couldn't blame her, however hard I tried, because she was entirely right. I now knew exactly what song I would sing for this week's assignment.

"What's up with you two?" Quinn asks as we walk towards Coach's office. I give her a look of confusion. "You and Brittany." I still don't answer. "Santana don't make me spell it out. You know what I'm talking about, you're acting different towards one another."

I stop, and force her to do the same. "Listen, I'm really tired of fighting with you, but you need to stop giving me reasons to kick your ass. This is none of your business." I seethe, and start to walk away, but her hand wraps around my upper arm.

"S, I care. I really do." These few and simple words are enough, and I realize a friendship could reform. Relaying this to her, I give a shy smile of understanding.

"Why are we going to her office in the first place?"

"No clue, Becky told me she wanted to see us." With that, we are soon seated in front of her desk, her piercing eyes upon us, her hands clasped in front of her face.

"Q. Grapefruit." I hate her already. She has no right to tease me about my implants when she doesn't even know why I got them. No one does. "I have a proposition for you." Her evil smile plays upon her lips, and I know it's another scheme. "Ill let you both back on the squad…" Quinn leans forward at the thought. "If you can help me get rid of one Will Schuester." What else was new.

"How?" Quinn asks hesitantly.

"Although my plan with Brittany and Bieste didn't go over very well. I'm fairly certain it will work with one human brillo pad." It took a minute for her words to sink in, and as they did, Quinn looked at me stunned.

"You mean you want…" she stammered.

"Yes." She nodded her head in approval. "You guys get to decide which on of you will be the victor, but understand one thing. If you mess this up, neither of you will see my Cheerio uniform again unless you're sitting in the stands watching what winners look like."

It was obvious by Quinn's silence that she wouldn't dare do this, but I also knew how badly she wanted to be back on the squad. So it was evident that the deed would be mine

"Although the assignment was intended to be individual, Artie, Mike, and Sam have prepared a group number." Mr. Schue announced as he took a seat. They sang some song from Top Gun, each of their girlfriends eating it up, although I thought it sounded pretty gay. Mr. Schue congratulated their choice and soon we were dismissed. I however lingered behind.

"Mr. Schue, I'd really like it if you sang a song from one of your favorite movies because I'm having a little trouble with this assignment." He gulped and looked a little uneasy. I moved closer to him, eliminating most of the space between us.

"Um, I think the boys demonstrated quite well." He shifted to the other side of the piano.

"But I'd much rather hear you sing." I lowered an octave, using my most sultry voice.

"Santana?" We both turn to see a very confused Brittany in the doorway. Mr. Schue took this as his queue to leave and quickly exited as Brittany walked in closer. "What are you doing?"

"Getting back on the Cheerios." I smiled.

"What does Mr. Schue have to do with that? I thought he was in charge of glee?"

"Coach made a deal with Quinn and I. If we can seduce Mr. Schue and then claim sexual assault, we can be back on the squad."

"That would be lying San," she says so innocently.

"Your point?"

"You're better than this San."

"Am I?" I question her, challenging her.

"Most definitely. You think you need Cheerios to define you, but you don't. If this is what you have to do to be on the squad, it's not worth it."

"I need Cheerios."

"Why?" she had moved closer, and all of a sudden I couldn't breathe.

"Because it's the only time I have you without him."

"San…" as the words left her mouth I trapped them between us with a kiss. Innocent and sweet, but expressing so many feelings. I know she can feel a hot tear graze her cheek as it slides down my face.

"I got to go," I breathe as we part, leaving before she could respond.

"I told Quinn that if she went through with this plan, that I'd tell it was all a lie, planned by you." I sat straighter, appearing as tall as I could in front of her.

"I obviously thought too highly of you Pamela," she began. "I should have known you'd disappoint me again."

Anger swirled within, and I couldn't keep it from regurgitating as I spoke. "Listen troll in need of a clue. I'm sick of the boob remarks."

"You should have thought about that before you plastered watermelons to your chest." She knew I wasn't here to make nice.

"Maybe I don't want to go through life looking like a twelve-year old girl. Maybe I want people to notice me more. Maybe I want something better for my life than to be a cheerleading coach stuck in a small town." Her eyes widened at the insult.

"You're walking a fine line…" before she could come up with another hateful term, I interrupted her with the reason I had started this meeting.

"I don't want back on the squad. But more importantly, I want you to know that Quinn had no choice in the matter, so therefore she better not be punished. If you don't let her back on the Cheerios, Figgins might just get an anonymous letter about this ridiculous scheme."

I held my ground, afraid that if I swayed or faltered in any way, she would feed my remains to her tank full of sharks that we all know she keeps in a warehouse downtown.

"Without Cheerios, you're sure to become just another Lima loser. Now get your juicy, vine-ripened chest fruit, and get the hell out of my office."

"Hey," I say softly in the doorway of her bedroom. "Your mom let me in," I smile shyly as she looks at me from her bed. Even though she's wearing her grass stained shorts that she normally wears when mowing the lawn, a raggedy old t-shirt, no make-up, and her hair pulled back in a messy bun, she looks absolutely stunning. She fixes her reading glasses to the top of her head and sets the book she's been reading down next to her. Everyone thinks Brittany is stupid, but I know her, and this site doesn't surprise me. In fact, it makes me adore her more.

"Hey," she responds, crossing her never ending legs beneath her.

I hesitantly make my way into her bright blue room and sit in the chair across from her. "Can we talk?" I avoid eye contact, staring instead at the picture of her and I on her desk. It's from the 80's dance freshman year, and our neon leotards and tights look ridiculous.

"Yeah, of course." Her voice paints a picture of concern.

"I didn't go through with it. I'm off the squad."

"But I saw Quinn in her uniform at the end of school."

"Coach let her back on." She gave me a very confused facial expression, and I couldn't help but smile at how cute she was. "It's a long story," I sigh, not really wanting to explain it right now. We let silence linger for a moment as I pull my legs under me in the chair. "Brit, can we just go back to the way things were with us." My eyes make brief contact with hers, and I can see her hanging on every word I say.

"I won't forget San or pretend it never happened, but if that's what it takes to have you back, I can be a very convincing actress." She gives me a wink and a sincere smile spreads across my face.

"That's good enough," even though we both know it's not. She pats the space next to her, and I don't hesitate to change my position. I lay down while I place my head in her lap, and she beings to stroke my hair. "I miss you," I breathe.

"I know," she whispers. We stay like this for a while; her gently playing with my hair, and I relaxing for the first time in weeks. I take her hand in mine and bring it to my lips, kissing it tenderly. It was then she noticed the small trace of blood on the sleeve of my shirt. "What happened?" her hand lightly tracing over the spot. "San, you're bleeding," her words dripping with worry.

I immediately pull away from her touch, hiding my arm against my side. "Oh nothing. Puck got a little rough earlier today," I lie. I can hear her open her mouth to speak, but no words come. Her fingers begin to lace in my hair again, and I soon forget everything as I fall asleep in her arms.

I make sure to look extra bitchy the next morning before school because I know the news of my departure from the Cheerios will have spread like wildfire by now. I have to make sure everyone knows I am still in charge at this school. However, as Brit and I make our way to Spanish, red ice collides with my face, Dave Karofsky and his posse pointing and laughing.

"Welcome to the bottom of the food chain loser," he adds before retreating down the hall.

I refuse to cry. I refuse to react. I didn't want to give anyone the satisfaction. Brittany's hand grew tight against mine, and before I know it, we're in the locker room. Even just the two of us, I refuse to break down. Noticing I wasn't moving, Brittany found a chair and pulled it close to the sink. I got the hint and sat down. She took a towel from her locker and began to dab away the slushy from my face.

"San I think you should get in the shower." I didn't respond. I knew being off the Cheerios was gonna be social suicide, but never in a million years did I think I would get a slushy facial.

Her words only registered when she began to undress me. I stopped her movements by placing my hands on hers. "What?"

"I can't get it all off." She started to take my shirt off before I stopped her again.

"Leave them on." She nodded in understanding and slowly led me to the shower stalls. She turned the water on, and gently guided me underneath, a pool of red gathering on the floor before washing down the drain.

She ran her fingers through my hair to help rinse out the sticky liquid. She continued to use the towel to softly rub at my face and neck. My clothes were drenched and stained, and I knew my white and black striped top was now completely see-through, but she didn't make me feel embarrassed.

The continuance of red at the drain began to force memories to plague my mind, and I started to scream and thrash within her grasp. "Ssh, San it's ok," her grip tightened as she flung her arms around me and pulled me into her. I was screaming, but I knew my words weren't making sense. "Everything's gonna be okay. This doesn't mean anything. He's just a bully." Her sentences were coming out as fragments, and even though they had nothing to do with why I was freaking out, they were still soothing. She pulled my head to rest against her chest as the water cascaded around us.

We walked into the choir room, both of us wearing a pair of Cheerio sweats that were in her locker. "We heard what happened," Quinn spoke as everyone's gaze fell upon us.

"Whatever, we all already knew Dave's an ass," I spit out sarcastically while rolling my eyes, trying to brush off the situation like it was no big deal, even though they all knew it was. Brittany and I were the only ones who hadn't been slushied, until now.

Mr. Schue walked in moments later and asked if anyone was ready to perform. Rachel took this as her moment to sing the Titanic theme song, beginning to cry after the second word, which didn't shock any of us.

The string instruments started to play as she finished, and the class looked confused as to who was going to sing next. "Cause it's a bittersweet symphony this life." My voice echoed through the room as I stood to maze through the rows of chairs. "I'll take you down the only road I've ever been down. You know the one that takes you to the places where all the veins meet yeah."

I approached the center of the room, a mic stand in my hand. "No change, I can't change, I can't change, I can't change. But I'm here in my mind, I am here in my mind. But I'm a million different people from one day to the next I can't change my mind. No, no, no, no, no , no."

I tilt the stand down to the side as I continue, shutting my eyes to the world as the music takes me over. "Well I never pray, but tonight I'm on my knees yeah. I need to hear some sounds that recognize the pain in me, yeah."

I take the mic off the stand and make my way back toward them, continuing to maze through their chairs and awaiting eyes. "No change, I can't change, I can't change, I can't change. But I'm here in my mind, I am here in my mind. And I'm a million different people from one day to the next, I can't change my mind, no, no, no, no, no."

I make a discreet circle around her as I belt the next line, "Cause it's a bittersweet symphony, this life. I'll take you down the only road I've ever been down." I make my way back to the center as the song finishes. "I can't change my mind, no, no, no, no, no. I can't change, can't change my body, no, no, no."

As I look at myself in my bathroom mirror, I could still see traces of red around my hair line and in my eyebrows. I opened the cabinet to get a few face wipes when I noticed the blade. It was then I remembered I hadn't used it yesterday since I spent the night at Brit's. I lift my shirt over my head and look at the cuts, some newer than others.

I knew I needed a new location. My secret had almost been publicized to her. I thought about scattering them in different areas, making it easier to explain with excuses.

I stepped in the shower to rinse out the rest of the drink, and the images from earlier flew across my pupils. I began to shake violently, but this time there was no one to hold me. My eyes darted to my stomach; it was flawless. I placed the blade against my skin, and in one swift motion, a new pool of red began to form at my feet. I slide down the wall and lay within the confines of the tub. I managed to make two more lines before the room began to spin, and then go dark.


	5. Stand Still, Look Pretty

**Chapter 5 – Stand Still, Look Pretty**

I remember waking up and shaking in pain. I remember the whiskey and how the first sip burned my throat. Then my world went black again.

The room's still out of focus as I regain consciousness. I'm laying down, that much I know, but I can tell it's not the dark walls of my room. A soft melody reverberates in my ears, immediately soothing the pain I feel.

"You are the strength, that keeps me walking. You are the hope, that keeps my trusting. You are the light, to my soul. You are my purpose, you're everything. How can I stand here with you, and not be moved by you? Would you tell me, how could it be, any better than this?"

I let the lullaby course through me, becoming part of my blood as it pumps through my veins. This must be what heaven's like. "You're awake," she whispers as she feels me stirring.

"Please don't stop singing," I beg.

She continues, wrapping my trembling body in her fleece blanket. "Cause you're all I want, you're all I need, you're everything, everything. You're all I want, you're all I need, you're everything, everything. And how can I stand here with you, and not be moved by you. Would you tell me, how could it be, any better than this? Would you tell me, how could it be, any better than this?"

The tune fades away, but I continue to lie there, breathing in the scent of her through the fabric, half expecting her to continue with another song. "San what's wrong?" she hesitantly breathes.

"Nothing," I say as I pull my legs into a fetal position. "Nothing," I repeat, more for myself than her.

"You're obviously hurting."

"I just had a little too much to drink."

"The fact that you were drinking on a Monday night is proof enough that there's something going on. You're hiding something from me San, and I'm worried about you." Anyone who thinks Brittany is oblivious to the world around her should listen to the way she talks to me.

"How did you find out by the way?" I ask, avoiding her questions. "How did I get here?" I motion to the room around me.

"You don't remember?" My silence proves my embarrassment at the fact. "You called me about some party and I could tell you were already drunk because your words were slurred. When I came to see if you were okay, you were passed out on the floor." I cringed at the thought of her seeing me like that. "So, not wanting your dad to come home and find you, I carried you to my car and brought you here so I could look after you." She paused, tucking a stray hair behind my ear. "San what party were you planning on going to that trashed?"

"I don't remember." There was no party last night. I knew the party I was referring to in my drunken stupor was the back to school rager freshman year.

"Can you stop lying to me? I don't lie to you." Her words are harsh, but I know it's because she truly cares.

"I can't tell you."

"Can't or won't."

I begin to cry and involuntarily pull myself closer to her. I could feel myself slipping away and I needed her to hold on to. "Can't."

"San."

"Just hold me please…please…and never let go." Not only did she embrace my tiny frame, she began to shower me with kisses; my forehead, cheeks, the top of my head, my nose.

"I'm right here," she whispered. "Nothing you could say or do could change that."

"That's not true."

She pulls my head in her hands and forces me to make eye contact with her. "Try me."

"I…" and with that her phone is going off, and I can tell by the ringtone who it is.

xxxxx

"You didn't have to do that," Quinn's voice rang in my ear as she saddled up next to me in the hall.

"I don't know what you're talking about," I smirk.

"Well thank you S," she smiled.

"Listen, I did what was necessary okay."

"But you'll never be able to rejoin the squad now. She's so pissed she had us all do 50 wind sprints, and that was just warm-ups."

"I'll be fine," I retort as I retreat down the crossing hallway.

xxxxx

"Did you hear?" Tina asked.

"Hear what?" Mercedes looked toward her as she washed her hands.

"Brittany and Artie broke up."

"When?"

"Like five minutes ago."

"Why?"

"No clue. Someone said they heard something about Santana."

"Maybe she manipulated Artie into thinking that if he had sex with her his legs would start working."

"I guess even her best friend isn't safe from her games."

The two girls left the ladies room snickering, obviously they had failed to check if anyone was in the stalls. I stood frozen, stunned by what I had just heard. I took out the flask I had been carrying and took a swig.

xxxxx

I didn't hear much more about the topic the rest of the day, but by the time I needed to be in the choir room for glee rehearsal, I was more than a little tipsy. Which actually was a good thing because as I entered the room, more than half of them displayed some very hateful looks directed toward my general vicinity.

"What?" I shrug, trying to sound as sober as I could.

"Don't act like you didn't do anything," Kurt sneered.

"We all know," Mercedes added.

"It's not like you haven't already proven you're the class harlot," Rachel concluded.

"I can't believe you broke them up," Sam countered.

"Whatever, you guys don't know shit." I turned to walk back out, but was stopped as Brittany appeared in the doorway. She saw the hurt written on my face and immediately questioned what was going on. "Apparently I fucked your boyfriend," I utter before walking past her.

xxxxx

I sat on the bleachers over-looking the football field, bringing the flask to my lips. I didn't acknowledge her presence as she sat down next to me, instead deciding to take another sip.

"I'm sorry."

"Is it true?" I ask between sips.

"Yes. I wish you'd stop drinking." I turned to look at her. She was beautiful, perfect really. What does she even see in me? "Babe, please tell me what's going on," she pleaded, and with those simple words my heart shattered.

"I want to, believe me….I'm just so scared."

"I love you okay. Everything about you. Flaws and all." Her smile grew as she squeezed my thigh.

"I'm a train wreck in the morning, I'm a bitch in the afternoon. Every now and then without warning, I can be really mean towards you." I begin to express myself the only way I know how, through song. I ungracefully stand in front of her and continue, "I'm a puzzle yes in deed, ever complex in every way. And all the pieces aren't even in the box, and yet, you see the picture clear as day."

A tear escapes and slides down my rosy cheeks. "I don't know why you love me, and that's why I love you. You catch me when I fall, accept me flaws and all, and that's why I love you."

I can see tears welling within her gorgeous orbs, threatening to spill over at any minute. "I'm a peasant by some standards, but in your eyes I'm a queen. You see potential in all my flaws, and that's exactly what I mean."

I grab her hands in mine and pull her to stand with me. "I don't know why you love me, and that's why I love you. You catch me when I fall, accept me flaws and all, and that's why I love you." I lean in and kiss her passionately, our tears mixing against our grazing cheeks.

"And that's why I love you," she whispers and kisses me again.

xxxxx

The song "Sex and Candy" is playing on repeat in my mind as her lips leave traces of saliva down my neck, because that's exactly what I smell. My hand ruffles her hair as she continues downward on my torso, kissing the piece of skin visible between my shirt and jeans. I let out a low moan as her fingers tug at the hem of my shirt.

"Wait," I breathe.

"What's wrong?" she pants.

I want this more than anything, but I'm not ready for her to see my secrets yet, the ones scarred across my skin. "Turn off the lights," I suggest.

She obeys quickly before removing her own shirt, rejoining her position on top of me. Her long, silky legs straddle my hipbones, and I reactively thrust toward her. She gently slides my shirt over my head and discards it on the floor. I pull her into me, afraid that if she's left to stare for too long, my scars will glow in the dark for her to read like a novel. Our tongues dance for each other, tasting the core of one another. Her hands cup my breasts and I can't help but groan for more.

She instinctively kisses her way down my jaw line and neck, pausing as she licks the underside of each breast. Her tongue happily plays with each nipple, and I can feel them grow hard within her mouth. I tangle my hands in her golden locks, urging her to continue. My stomach flinches at her kiss and a small giggle erupts from within her.

She softly kisses the crease of my pelvic bone as her hands play with the top of my pants. I lift my hip as they are pulled from me, discarded next to my awaiting shirt. I feel jolted to life as her tongue makes its way between my legs. Her fingers frame the heat of me, granting her full access to take complete control over me.

My body goes limp within her grasp, giving myself to her completely. As a wave rolls through my body, I grab onto her, praying for some type of grounding, as I feel so light and free. She kisses her way back up my body as I lay panting beneath her. She pushes a sweat-soaked bang off my face and kisses my temple.

"You're fucking amazing," is all I can manage to breath as she slides next to me, pulling me on top of her so she can wrap her arms around me. She shakes her head and I continue to repeat it until she's kissing me hard.

We lay intertwined for a while as I come down from my high, her fingers scrawling small circles on my back. "San, does this mean we can be together?" I freeze and she feels it. "I mean since Artie and I are done, and we love each other and stuff. I was just…"

"I can't. Not yet."

"Why?"

"Because we don't have to be public for our relationship to be real. Why does everyone else have to be involved?"

"That's not the point. I just want to be able to do coupley things with you." She sounds defeated.

"We can do those things here," I smirk as I kiss her playfully, hoping to change the subject. She feels my need for deflection and respects me enough to kiss me back.

xxxxx

Eyes are fixed on me as I enter school, which isn't anything new, except for the fact that they're smiling, and laughing, and I think even pointing. Some even have shocked and disappointed facial expressions and I can't help but walk a little quicker toward the choir room. Maybe word really did spread about Artie and I, which is just gross by the way.

"What the hell is going on? Artie and I didn't do anything," I question as I make my way into the room. However, not only are they all staring at me as well, I notice Brittany sitting with her head cast down toward the floor.

"We know," Rachel began.

"Know what?" Anger seeps within me.

"There are pictures all over the internet." My eyes look toward Brittany and then it hits me.

"I…we…" but words fail me. And instead I'm fleeing as fast as I can. I run out of the room and down the hall, past the leering stares and snide comments, and out to my car. I waste no time in getting the hell out of there.

I fling my door open with enough force to knock a picture off the adjacent wall. I drop my belongings to the floor as I sprint to the bathroom. The liquor I stashed weeks ago is still behind the towels in my closet, and I eagerly down an eighth of it before craving something more. I can't remember where I put the blade after the last incident, so I search for a different instrument, but nothing appears.

I happen to steal a glance at myself in the mirror, mascara running in streaks down my face, my eyes bloodshot, my cheeks burning with fury.

_I want to paint my face_

_And pretend that I am someone else_

_Sometimes I get so fed up_

_I don't even want to look at myself_

The song leaks from my lips as I hate the person staring back at me.

_But people have problems that are worse than mine_

_I don't want you to think I'm complaining all the time_

_And I hate the way you look at me I have to say_

_I wish I could start over_

The liquor sloshed within the bottle in my grasp as I brought it to my mouth and drank heavily, allowing it to burn its way through my bloodstream.

_I am slowly falling apart_

_I wish you'd take a walk in my shoes for a start_

_You might think it's easy being me_

_You just stand still, look pretty_

I was so fucking tired of trying to be the perfect head cheerleader. I was so fucking sick of trying to fulfill a role that I had been cast in. I was so fucking done with being this hallow, shell of a person.

_Sometimes I find myself shaking _

_In the middle of the night_

_And then it hits me and I can't_

_Even believe this is my life_

_But people have problems that are worse than mine_

_I don't want you to think I'm complaining all the time_

_And I wish that everyone would go and shut their mouths_

_I'm not strong enough to deal with it_

I watched my reflection as the words trailed off my tongue and into the empty room. The liquid no longer burned as it made its way down my throat. Instead it offered a sense of release. Of comfort. Of nothing.

_I am slowly falling apart_

_I wish you'd take a walk in my shoes for a start_

_You might think it's easy being me_

_You just stand still, look pretty_

I threw the now empty bottle at the disgusting image of myself, shattering the mirror into shards of glass that began to litter my bathroom.

"San," I heard as I brought my heavy hands to my head to rub at my temples. I was starting to hear things as I began to get very dizzy. I felt myself lose my balance and begin to fall, but instead of hitting cold, hard tile, I landed on warm flesh.

"San," came the voice again, and I realized I wasn't imagining things as her arms wrapped around me. It was then I wondered how long she had been there, was she waiting outside listening to me sing and slowly self-destruct.

"Brit…" I questioned hazily.

"What's going on?" her voice laced with panic.

"N…nothing," I slurred.

"Shit Santana, stop fucking lying to me. You're bleeding. That is obviously not nothing." I looked down at my legs and noticed the cuts, and I couldn't remember if I had done them or if the shattered glass had. "You need to see a doctor San. They could get infected."

"I'm fucking drunk. I can't see a doctor."

"Well whose fault is that." Her eyes stare down at me questioningly; piercing the shell I had managed to build over my skin.

"I'm gonna be…" I blurt before leaning toward the toilet. Her hands are at my back instantly, rubbing soothing circles to ease the pain, her other hand gracefully holding back my hair.

All I wanted to do was pass out, allow the alcohol to take its intended effect, but she wouldn't let me. "I need you to stay with me," she begged.

As my eyes continue to grow heavy, I feel her arms around me, one under my legs, and the other behind my neck. She lifts me from the ground, and for the first time in my life I felt nothing; no pain, just freedom, the weightless notion of flying.

However, instead of placing me in my soft bed, I feel the cool walls of the bathtub encircle me. The rest of my clothes were stripped from me as she gently lays me back against her. I feel the fullness of her breasts press against my back, realizing that she was naked as well. Her arms surround me as I sit between her legs, the warm water filling the tub quickly.

She strokes my hair as it falls in waves down my back. The pads of her fingertips start to roam my exterior, finding every secret I had laid out for her to read. I wince, expecting harsh words, but instead she brings my arm to her lips and kisses each spot tenderly.

"Don't," I cry. She ignores me as her lips press against my shoulder blade. She pulls me in closer, if that were possible, and I feel her body start to shake as I fade out of consciousness.


	6. Just Dance

Sorry for the delay. I had this written weeks ago, but my grandma passed away, and then I wanted to make a few edits. Thanks so much for the feedback!

**Chapter 6 – Just Dance**

I awake to the coolness of my sheets wrapped around me. My head is throbbing, and I tentatively try to sit up, but realize my body would rather stay horizontal. I hesitantly turn to my side and notice that it's empty, immediately thinking/hoping that last night was a terrible dream.

"Hey," her voice is soft and full of worry, causing my heart to shatter as it lingers in my ears. My eyes flutter in the direction of its source, and I see she's slowly cleaning the pieces of glass from the bathroom floor. "How are you feeling?" she asks as she sets down the broom and walks toward me. Her hand immediately finds my forehead in a comforting gesture, allowing me to close my eyes and sigh.

"Been better," I manage to release, slowly scooting into her frame for support. She allows me to lie back down, and eases her way to rest on top of me.

There's a long pause of silence as we lay intertwined. "San, you have to tell someone. You need help." Her voice blows across my bare skin underneath the weight of her head.

I gulp and let out a breathy "I told you," as I shift uneasily beneath her. She doesn't look up at me, but instead begins to trace her fingertips across my flesh, her cheek firmly pressed against my chest.

"You didn't tell me."

"Minor detail. You know now." I retort, tangling a piece of golden hair between my fingers.

"Will you talk to me about it?" I could hear the worry in her voice, but couldn't decipher if it was worry about the issue at hand, or worry about asking the question due to my inevitable, heated response.

"I'd rather not," I whisper.

"But your pain is my pain sweetheart," she manages to say between a yawn.

"You don't know anything about my pain." The words seethe from my lips before I can stop them. Her fingers stop against my stomach as she turns and makes eye contact with me.

"I'd like to," is all she says before regaining her previous position. I expected anger, sadness, anything to show those words had hurt her, but she was being strong, like she had promised, and for that I loved her even more.

* * *

><p>Things gradually got better. The gossip at school had moved on to the rumor of a studentteacher love affair. Brittany and I returned to our friendly duo, but our relationship remained in the closet. Even the glee kids managed to push aside the issue and act like nothing had happened. In a week's time, I had gone from the spotlight of the rumor mill back to head bitch in charge, and I began to think that my life was back on track.

"See San, no one cares. We can be together and no one will care." She smiles as I take a book from my locker and place it in my bag.

"Let's not get ahead of ourselves. Do you remember last week and how those pictures and gossip opened the gates of hell?"

"But no one was mean to us. They just wanted the truth."

"It's none of their damn business," I shout. She retreats as my anger rises. "Sorry…it's just I'm not ready okay." I smile and she returns the favor. We clasp pinkies as we head to the choir room.

"This week's assignment is remixes," Mr. Schue began, underlining the word written on the whiteboard. "Every great song can be slightly modified in order to be relatable to your own lives. Your job is to pick a song and change it in a way that fits you."

"Isn't that plagiarism?" Rachel questions.

"We're not putting out an album," Kurt responds while rolling his eyes.

"Exactly, this is just for us," Mr. Schue continues. "Plus it will help you guys learn how to write your own songs in the future."

* * *

><p>My hips sway to the incoherent music, one hand firmly wrapped around a red cup, the other splayed above my head. "San, what the…" I barely hear over the music as I struggle to focus my attention on the source of the words. My head spins as I catch her eyes in the crowd. It was then I realize I was the center of attention. I knew I was dancing, but I failed to remember how I got up on the table in the middle of the dark room. I guess my drunken alter ego decided it'd be a good idea to perform for these Lima losers.<p>

She grips my wrist harshly and pulls me from the table, only to receive quite a few "boos" from the gathered crowd in the process. I giggle and continue to drink from my cup as her hands grip my waist, leading me away from the leering eyes. I felt her hands against my own flesh, forcing me to look down at myself, instantly realizing I wasn't wearing a shirt. She guides me into an empty room and closes the door.

"San…"

"I'm so glad you made it," I slur, stumbling over to her. "Let's go dance."

"I think you've done enough of that," she shoots back, and through my drunken haze I can't tell if she's angry or not.

"They'll like it better if it's both of us," I giggle, pulling at the hem of her shirt to expose her taut abs.

"So it's ok for us to be 'together' as long as we're drunk?"

I look at her confused. The last thing I want to be doing right now is trying to make sense of what she is saying. "No…I…"

"Where the hell is your shirt?"

"No clue," I shrug. Noticing my own cup was empty, I scan the room for something else to drink. Seeing a cup resting on a bookcase, I make my way over and tilt its contents into my mouth.

"San you don't know what's in that. It could be drugged for all you know."

"So," I smile coyly. "You're here now, so you can take care of me. And if it is drugged," I hiss seductively, bringing my thumb to run over her lips, "I give you permission to take full advantage of me." I finish, closing the minimal gap between us by pressing our lips together.

"That's not funny!" She practically yells, pushing me away from her. "What if I wasn't here?"

"There are plenty of other people here who would be glad to take your place."

She stares at me blankly. "So let me get this straight," she begins, taking a step back. "If I wouldn't have gotten a call from Puck to come here and save you from doing something stupid, you would have continued to get beyond wasted and let some random guy take advantage of you?"

"Well it wouldn't be 'letting' if he was taking advantage of me," I smile, but there is no joy in her icy blue eyes.

"Even though you're my girlfriend," she sees me roll my eyes, "in secret whatever, you're still mine. But you seem to have no problem having meaningless sex with a stranger."

I back away and turn so my back is facing her. "You don't know what the fuck you're talking about."

"That's right Santana, because you refuse to tell me. You refuse to let me in. You want to be my special fuck buddy devoid of feelings, is that right?" She yells and I inwardly cringe at the truthfulness of her words.

"What do you want to know then?" I challenge, raising an eyebrow as I sit down on the bed. She folds her arms across her chest and stands her ground.

"I thought you were getting better."

"I am. Honey, this is the real me. Santana mother fucking Lopez," I slur as I giggle.

"This is NOT the person I fell in love with."

"Then maybe you fell in love with the wrong person." I turn my head to avoid the pain in her eyes.

"San, stop pushing me away," she practically begs as she crosses the room and sits next to me. "Just le me in. I know you better than anyone else…"

"Oh really," the anger within bubbles to the surface and I begin to explode. "You know me huh?" I say sarcastically. "Did you know that when I was fourteen my own father told me I wasn't a good enough daughter and that's why my mom left? Did you know the reason I got these," I say harshly as I grab my chest, "is because over the summer, when we were with that football player, he paid more attention to your breasts?"

"San that's not true…" she tries to interrupt my tirade, but hot tears are flowing down my cheeks.

"Did you know that after every time we fucked last year, I went to Puck's afterwards so he could fuck away the disgust I felt?" Her eyes shudder to prevent tears. The statement isn't entirely true, but I want/need her to feel half of what I'm feeling inside. "You say you're here for me, but where were you the night of the freshman rager? Where were you then, when I needed you?" I cry.

"What do you mean? What happened at that party?" She tries to touch me to comfort me, but I pull away.

"You don't know me. You're perfect, you'll never understand what it's like to be me." I croak out between sobs.

"Make me understand," I turn and see tears in her eyes and my anger fumes again.

"No, you don't get to cry," I spit out. I pick up an empty beer bottle sitting on a night stand and hurl it across the room. The crash against the wall is barely heard over the loud music reverberating through the house. "You think everything is simple. That everything is black and white and rainbows and butterflies, but it's not. There's a whole fucking world out there Brittany, and let me tell you, there's a whole lot of gray." Tears escape her blue eyes as my harsh words hit her.

"You don't mean this," she cries, pleading with her eyes for me to calm down. Silence lingers as I locate a shard of the broken bottle. I bend to pick it up and lazily play with it between my fingers. "This isn't fucking funny anymore Santana. Stop joking around."

"Who said I was joking?" I question, placing the piece of glass against my stomach.

"If this is how you want it, then fine. You don't want to share or let me help you, fine, but I'm done. I'm not gonna watch you self-destruct. It literally kills me." And with that she's out the door before I can say anything. I drop the piece of glass as I fall to the floor, my face buried in my hands as I come undone.

* * *

><p>She doesn't call. She doesn't text. She doesn't visit. All weekend I hear nothing from her. I can't eat. I refuse to sleep in case I miss her call. By Monday I look like a zombie, and not the cool kind like we did for the half time show. When I don't show up to school, Quinn's at my door by lunchtime, refusing to leave until I open up.<p>

"What?" I bark, opening the front door to reveal my shell of existence.

"S…you look like shit."

"Aww thanks blondie. You look heavenly as always." I smile sarcastically before retreating toward the living room. "What are you doing here?" I ask over my shoulder.

"You weren't at school, so I was worried. I asked Brittany, but she said she hadn't talked to you, so then I got even more worried."

"Well thanks for the concern Q, but as you can see I'm perfectly fine." I stretch my arms outward before plopping on the couch.

"Santana, you are most definitely not fine." Quinn takes a seat next to me, pulling empty cans of beer from between the couch cushions.

"Want one?" I offer, extending a fresh can in her direction.

"It's barely noon."

"It's like midnight in Australia."

"Santana, what happened to you?" Got to hand it to her, she was never one for bullshitting.

"Um let's see, my parents got divorced. My mom left. I became the school's jezebel. I got demoted to the bottom of the pyramid before completely getting kicked off the squad. I became the school's gossip. Oh and I fell in love with my best friend. But not much, how bout you?" I sarcastically banter before taking a large sip of frothy liquid.

For some reason it had always been easy to talk to Quinn, I think mostly because I've known her the longest. Even though we put on this persona of fighting for the role of Queen B, I know she would never judge me. Plus, I don't love her like I love Brittany, so there's no vulnerability involved.

"Santana, she's worried sick about you. It's obvious."

"She doesn't understand."

"Give her the chance."

"I can't without telling her about that summer…"

Her hazel eyes lock with mine, and I know she immediately understands why I keep pushing Brittany away. She scoots closer to me and places a gentle hand on my thigh. "S, you have to tell her eventually. If she cares about you as much as I think she does, she's gonna wish you had told her sooner. You have nothing to be embarrassed about. It wasn't your fault."

"She's gonna look at me the way everyone else around here does. Right now she sees me differently then the rest of this sucky town, but if I tell her…"

"No she's not. And not everyone thinks you're a slut Santana."

"Rachel even said the only job I'm gonna have is working on a pole."

"She was just angry."

"Let's face it. I'm never gonna be good enough for anyone. I wasn't good enough for my mom."

"Her leaving had nothing to do with you."

"I wasn't good enough for Puck or he wouldn't have slept with you." She doesn't say anything. She knows I didn't say it to be mean to her. "I wasn't good enough for Brittany cause she chose Artie."

"But she loves you."

"I'm not smart enough, pretty enough, skinny enough, tough enough. People have already made their mind up about me. It's time I just accept it as truth." She tries to reason with me, but I shut down.

"You're stronger than you give yourself credit. Ugh, do you know how much everyone at that school would kill to be you." She waits patiently for me to change my mind, but when I don't budge, she hesitantly leaves to return to school.

* * *

><p>The school calls my father about my absence, and somehow he finds time in his "busy" schedule to make sure I go to school on Tuesday. Unbeknownst to him, I make sure my bag is amply supplied with enough alcohol to last the day.<p>

I make my way into the choir room as all eyes land on me. I stumble slightly as I walk to my seat thanks to the amount of liquor I've already managed to consume. I catch a glimpse of disappointment on Quinn's face, but I refuse to make eye contact with anyone else. When Mr. Schue enters, he asks if anyone would like to share their remix. I notice that everyone is looking at me, and I assume that the rest of them went yesterday.

"Yeah okay," I mumble before making my way to the floor. I know I'm swaying and stumbling more than I should be at school, but no one says anything, as they should.

The piano begins and I close my eyes, causing the room to spin a little. "I've had a little bit too much. All of the people start to rush by. A dizzy, twisted dance, can't find my drink or man, where are my keys, I lost my phone." I open my eyes to see Quinn looking very concerned. It obviously doesn't take long for them all to notice I'm not exactly sober.

"Just dance, gonna be ok, been here before. Just dance, spin that record babe, loud on the floor. Just dance, can't hear my phone when you don't call. Just dance, dance, just dance."

I turn so I'm facing the board and sway slightly. I have to steady myself on the piano to keep me from falling over. "Wish I could shut my playboy mouth. I let you turn me inside out. Control your poison babe, roses have thorns they say. Tonight we'll dance away the pain." I turn facing them once more, but decide it's best to keep my eyes closed.

"What's going on, on the floor. I love this record baby, but I can't think straight anymore. Keep it cool, what'd the name of this club. I can't remember, but it's alright." The beat picks up and I start to gyrate, allowing the words and rhythm to completely take me over. "Just dance, gonna be ok, been here before. Just dance, spin that record babe, loud on the floor." I'm suddenly spinning in circles, losing all sense of reality. "Just dance, can't hear my phone, when you don't call. Just dance, dance, dance, dance, just dance."

I stop and finally stare at her, forcing my eyes to stay fixed on her. "Jump for my chance to be hardcore, I lost my mind on the dance floor. I know that the time is past four, but who cares cause my heart is a dark force, to be reckoned with. Never give love to a pretty girl with a negative outlook. There's no such thing as a friend no benefits. So sweet, so elegant, so weak, so intelligent. I forget like the night is my last night, and the past nights mean nothing. So I lose my composure, lost in space cause my world's over." A single tear escapes my eye and I turn to wipe it away.

"Just dance, gonna be ok, been here before. Just dance, spin that record babe, loud on the floor. Just dance, can't hear my phone, when you don't call. Just dance."

I find her again as I continue my dancing in circles, and her eyes are glistening in the light from the amount of tears welled inside. "I'm spinning, I'm spinning, spinning. I'm spinning with the feeling inside." Our eyes stay locked as my own begin to lose their composure. "I'm spinning but the feeling won't die. I'm shaking, but the pain is still here. I'm dancing but it won't disappear." As the last words leave my mouth, I take one last look at her before running from the room.

* * *

><p>"You need to talk to her," Quinn whispers in the vacant bathroom.<p>

"I can't," I manage to whimper between sobs. I sat folded in on myself against the wall, my face buried in my hands. I could feel my mascara caked to my cheeks.

"Why?" Her voice is fragile and hesitant. I could hear her pacing slightly across the tiled floor.

"Because the last thing I said to her was pretty fucked up." My chest rises and falls as I sigh deeply, wiping my cheeks with the back of my hand. She waits patiently for my breathing to return to normal before crouching down next to me.

"Can I ask you a question?" She looks at me sincerely, and I nod appropriately. "And no more bullshit." I nod again. "What exactly do you want from her?" Immediately seeing my facial reaction she continues, throwing her hands in the air defensively. "Listen, I'm friends with both of you, and even though I've known you longer, all I want is for you both to be happy. And if you can't give her what she needs, don't keep stringing her along with false hope S, that's not fair. If you do love her as much as I think you do, then you need to prove it to her. Cause this hot and cold game is very selfish."

Her hazel eyes pierce mine as her heavy words force out a breath I hadn't realized I was holding. All I could manage was a weak, "I do love her Q, but I'm scared."

"What are you so scared of?" Her hand grips my thigh sympathetically. "She loves you, isn't that enough?"

"Of course it is," I sigh, trying to find the words. "I'm scared of what everyone else will say about me."

"You need to stop caring about what others think."

"Says the girl who made a glist just to prove she was still hot."

"That was so last year," she mocks, rolling her eyes. We exchange smiles before she wraps her arm around me, allowing me to lean my head against her shoulder. "Besides, are you really going to let some homophobic losers from a small town in the middle of nowhere push you around and prevent you from being with someone you love? The Santana Lopez I know would never allow that."

"I haven't been that girl in a long time," I breathe.

"Well then I think it's time she returns to Lima." Quinn's voice subsides the sadness within, but as her hand begins rubbing soothing circles on my arm, the fabric of my shirt irritates my hacked skin, sending a jolt through my body. My passion for this feeling ignites, and my stomach begins to flip in anticipation for the chance of release once I get home.

Sensing my rigidity within her grasp, Quinn places a hesitant pat to my arm. "S, besides the obvious with Brittany, is there anything else going on? Because you know you can talk to me right? If there were..."

"Yeah I know...thanks...but everything's fine." I muster up a smile to go along with my blatant lie. But having one person knowing about my extracurriculars was already one too many.

* * *

><p>Song: Just Dance by Gary Go (look it up, it's amazing!)<p> 


	7. Don't Speak

Thanks for the reviews. Sorry for the delay, this chapter was difficult to write. But I have the next one already mapped out. Enjoy.

**Chapter 7 – Don't Speak**

Two weeks went by without a single conversation between her and I. Fourteen days without those angelic, blue eyes. 336 hours without the feel of her skin against mine. For the first few days I had been avoiding her, but now it was painfully obvious that she was not making any effort either.

It was a lot harder than I imagined it would be, the thought of losing her. I was angry. I was angry that she had woven herself so intricately into my life that it was near impossible for me to do anything without thinking of her. I was angry that she couldn't see how badly I was hurting and just forgive me. But mostly I was angry with myself. For who I am. For what I've done. For everything.

That feeling in the pit of my stomach began to rise. It had been days since the last time, and now it bubbled wildly within. I started to shake violently as unknowing tears began to seep from my almond eyes. I wanted this all to stop. I wanted everything to just stop. Quinn was a fucking liar when she told me I was strong. Because all of this is getting to be way too much for me to handle.

My reflection was calling me, screaming at me to release the emotions swirling inside. I refused. I fought. I ran.

Grabbing my keys as I swiftly exited my room, I make it out to my car and out of the driveway before I even realize I don't have a destination in mind. By this point I'm crying hysterically, and I fucking hate myself even more. I don't think. I just drive.

It's dark before I notice where I've ended up. My autopilot has directed me toward the one place I knew I would be safe. My broken and weak limbs carry me to the front porch as I'm barely able to lift my hand to knock on the door. I hear muffled voices beyond the wooden frame and it almost makes me turn around and leave. I hear the doorknob shuffle beneath the weight of someone's hand, and I suck in an involuntary breath before the light and warmth of the home cascades me.

"Santana?" She questions while taking a brief glance toward the living room. "Is everything okay?" I don't know whether this is brought on due to my tear stained cheeks or her knowledge of the situation. I don't know how much she's been told.

I remain in silence, unsure of what exactly I should say. Truth was I didn't know why I was here. But I didn't know where else to go either. She sees my uncertainty and motions me forward. I smile slightly to show my gratitude as my feet hesitantly step through the threshold. Her hand presses softly against my back, comforting me, guiding me toward the kitchen and away from the loudness of the living room.

"Who is it mom?" her voice beckons from the top of the stairs. I shiver. The older woman notices.

"Brit can you come to the kitchen?"

I hear her soft steps against the carpeted stairs as she skips down, oblivious to what awaits her. She's whistling, and she's so fucking happy that I inwardly curse myself for showing up out of the blue. My back is facing the entrance, but I know she sees me because her sweet melody has stopped. Her mom gives a tiny nod before exiting the room, and after seconds of silence, I lose control. I literally break down in the middle of their fucking kitchen, falling into a pathetic pile of shaking and sobbing on the tiled floor.

She doesn't come to me immediately. I know I'm being selfish. I haven't talked to her in two weeks, and then I show up in the middle of the night and cry in her kitchen. Who _would_ know what to do? I'm actually just thankful she hasn't kicked me out yet.

"San…I…" her stuttering informs me she has no fucking clue what to do.

Instead of answering, I cry harder.

Her hands are at my shoulders, but instead of wrapping me in her arms, she's yanking me upward. She nudges me forward and toward the stairs, and I realize that I must be too loud for the rest of her family.

I'm sitting on her bed before I even realize we've climbed stairs. Her hands instantly leave my side once I'm stable, and I immediately miss her touch. She waits patiently at her desk, staring at her fingernails, as my sobs slowly turn to hiccups.

"I'm sorry," I mumble softly. It's not near enough, but it's a start. She nods, her focus still on her fingers. I sigh in order to compose myself. My hands are shaking, but I fold them in my lap to keep them from distracting me. They display every ounce of fear that refuses to be pushed aside, and I'm confident that if I continue to notice them, I will back down from what I'm about to do and run home.

"Brittany, I…you…" I struggle to find the words I need. I glance toward her and realize that her gaze is fixed on me now. Those icy, sapphire eyes pierce mine with a passion that lets me know she'll wait for me to finish.

"You mean more to me than anything else in this messed up world. And that scares the shit out of me because of how much control you have over my feelings." I let out a ragged breath as another tear manages to wriggle free. "I'm a bitch. And I'm okay with that. It's easy to be a bitch. But with you…you make me want to be something else. Something better."

She nods again, but this time I can see her eyes have glossed over, and I realize I'm beginning to crack holes in the walls of hurt and anger she's created to protect herself. I have to look away to gather the strength to continue. "I don't take back saying the things I said the other night," I pause, swallowing the lump that managed to rise in my throat, "but I regret the way I said them."

I have to touch her. I need her support. Frantically yet slowly, I rise to my feet and make my way over to her. My hands hesitantly search for hers, grasp them softly, and cradle them between us. She's reluctant to look at me, so we both stare at our clasped hands instead.

"I'm scared to let you in because I'm scared of what you'll think of me. You have this warped view of who I am. You see me differently than everyone else. And I'm so scared that I'm gonna ruin that." I hiccupped back a sob, the noise finally forcing her to meet my gaze. I smiled weakly, her grip on my hands tightened.

"Santana, there is nothing you could ever say or do that could taint the way I view you. Please believe that. You are absolutely perfect to me." Another noise escaped past my lips, something between a sob and a huff.

I try to pull away, but she grips tighter. She won't let me walk away this time. She won't let me back down and retreat back into myself. I sigh, heavily. "Everyone thinks I created the reputation I have. That I actually wanted all of this." My hiccups begin to disappear as my tears flow freely. "But in reality, I didn't want any of this. This popularity. This pressure to succeed at everything. Being a bitch just made it easier to get through the day as a person I didn't want to be in the first place."

A tear falls from my chin and lands on our woven hands below. "Do you remember how you went on vacation when Quinn and I went to that rager freshman year?" She nods. I inhale. "Well that was the night my world changed. That was the night I became the girl who slept around."

"I don't understand," she whispers. "I already know you're reputation with guys. That doesn't change how I feel about you." I shake my head repeatedly, trying to make her understand through my actions so I wouldn't have to continue. She unclasps our hands and immediately places them on either side of my face. "San, it's okay. Shh. Talk to me. Explain." Her words are ragged and I can tell she's crying without looking at her.

"I didn't ask for this," I mumble through sobs. I want to tell her, I honestly do. But the thoughts alone of that night, as they creep into the front of my mind, cause me to begin to shake violently again, and all of a sudden I'm unable to communicate properly. My chest begins to tighten and I feel like all the air in my lungs is escaping at a rapid pace. Her arms are around me and pulling me into the warmest embrace within seconds, one hand at the small of my back, the other delicately wrapped in my hair.

"I'm sorry," I mumble against her shoulder. "Can that just be enough for now?"

She nods and pulls me closer. She's a better person than I can ever imagine being. Her kindness and love is undeserving, but I'm oh so grateful. I wrap my arms around her waist and fully allow myself to let go. Even if I can't verbally tell her, I can physically show her the raw emotions that I feel, the emotions birthed from the memories that plague me.

She waits patiently for my hysterics to turn to sobs, and then eventually to hiccups. I'm drained and completely exhausted. Sensing this, she untangles our bodies and leads me to her bed, forcing me to sit on the edge. Leaning down in front of me, her hands delicately untie the laces of my boots and slip them off my feet. I'm blown away by the immense care she takes in helping me.

Once each shoe is removed, she walks to her dresser and pulls out an oversized shirt and a pair of pajama shorts. Without realizing it, her hands are once again on my shoulders, guiding me back into a standing position. Her fingers are hesitant at first, her touch very soft against the skin at my waist. She pulls the zipper of my skirt down, and gently slides the material down my thighs and over my knees. She picks each foot up separately to finish its removal, then repeats the motion to pull the shorts up in its place.

We don't speak. She knows if she says anything I'll realize my state of vulnerability and retreat away from her. Tugging slightly at the hem of my tank top, I outstretch my arms above me to allow her to pull the top over my head. She glances at me in a brief moment of desire, but the look fades immediately, replaced with her need to take care of me. Once the shirt is draped over my torso, she reaches underneath to my back and unclasps my bra, gently guiding the straps over my arms, and discarding it to the floor with the rest of my clothes.

She pulls back the covers and guides me to the side. As I climb in, she quickly changes her own clothes before turning off the light and joining me under the duvet. She places herself behind me, fusing the front of her with the back of me effortlessly. Her arms cocoon me, her cheek pressed tightly to mine, and for the first time in days I'm able to fall asleep instantly.

xxxxx

I'm awoken with the faint smell of coffee wafting through the room. She's by my side instantly upon hearing me stir to consciousness. "Morning," she smiles, sheepishly tucking a stray bang behind my ear.

"Morning," I mumble sleepily. She stares at me unwaveringly, and I begin to grow uneasy. "What? Do I have like major bed hair or something?" I question as I reach to the top of my head.

"No," she answers softly, shaking her head. She pauses for a moment, and that's when I realize she's nervous about something.

"Hey," I say, bringing my hand to hers in order to force her to look at me. "What's wrong?"

When her eyes finally meet mine, a small tear leaks it's way down her left cheek. "You're not gonna be happy with me," she says hesitantly. I look at her with confusion and worry. "But I've come to the conclusion that if you won't help you, then it's my job to help you," she rambles.

"Brit, what exactly does that mean?" I question nervously.

She looks away from me as she answers. "Get dressed and come down to the kitchen." And before I can argue or question further, she's out of the room, a ghostly cool in the space she just vacated next to me.

I lay there in frozen mortification for a while. Brittany never acts mysterious in the sense when it comes to surprises. And what the fuck did she mean by she was going to help me? The scent of coffee still lingers in the room, and I finally decide that I'm in desperate need of some caffeine in order to deal with Brittany's unexplained behavior. Whatever was waiting for me downstairs could wait until after I had a large mug of hazelnut coffee.

Instead of putting my clothes back on from the previous night, I slip my bra on underneath her oversized t-shit and make my way downstairs in my pajamas, well Brittany's pajamas. As I turn the corner to enter the kitchen, I notice another woman sitting at the kitchen table. She looked to be in her mid-50s, blonde-gray hair pulled back in a meticulous ponytail, and her smile was unnerving as she looked at me.

"Sorry, I didn't realize you guys had company," I stuttered, embarrassed by my choice of an outfit, or lack there of. As I turned to retreat back upstairs to change, the woman began to speak.

"Actually Santana, I'm here to see you." Her voice was soft, kind, but definitely unwanted. I froze in mid-turn, my heart all of a sudden beating beyond its normal requirement. I forced myself to remain calm as I turned back around, my eyes shifting rapidly from this woman to Brittany and back again. The way her top lip thinned as she maintained her inhumane smile began to annoy the shit out of me. I looked to Brittany again for an answer, but she remained silent, her eyes fixed to the floor.

"Santana, my name is Ms. Hetrick, and I work for the crisis center." Her words were jumbled as they made their way to my ears. _Crisis Center?_ _What the fuck is going on?_ Again I looked to Brittany, this time her eyes stared back, but she continued to remain still as I silently begged her for this not to be true.

"I have been called here today to talk to you about what has been going on in your life lately. Would you care to go to a room more private so we can talk in more detail?" I deadpanned and refused to show her any type of emotion. Sensing this she continued, "I can promise you Santana that I'm only here to help you, and whatever you tell me is kept strictly between you and I?"

"I don't understand…who…who called you?" I frantically searched her eyes and when they couldn't answer me, I looked back to Brittany, the evidence clearly written all over her crystal blues.

"Brit, you didn't?" I pleaded, my voice betraying me by breaking with every syllable. Her eyes immediately went to the floor.

"Ms. Pierce is very concerned…" the woman began again, but I had had enough. I turned back to her, anger fuming from every feature on my face.

"Listen here female version of Dr. Phi. You don't know me, you don't know Brittany, therefore you have no clue how her or I feel, about anything for that matter. So why don't you take your pamphlets and your psycho-bullshit and leave us alone." I seethed, forcing my hands to grasp each other in order to prevent myself from shaking.

"Ms. Lopez, if you would just…"

I turned back toward Brittany, completely ignoring the troll that couldn't get a clue. "I can't believe you would do this. I don't need help Brittany. It's called growing up. Maybe you should try it sometime." Again I lashed out at her, hitting her with all the anger I felt for myself. It wasn't fair, but for some reason I couldn't stop the words from coming out. Before I could allow them to see me break, I turned and stomped toward the door, not giving two shits that I was still wearing her clothes. I barely heard the woman telling her that I didn't mean what I said because I was hurting inside before I loudly slammed the door.

xxxxx

As I shut my locker for first period, Quinn's faced was magically waiting on the other side. "Jesus Q, lurk much?" I huffed, turning to walk away. I knew why she was here, and I was honestly in no mood to have another heart to heart with her.

She of course was not about to let me exit in peace. "Is that what you call talking to her?" Her voice was loud, forcing me to turn back toward her to prevent other people from hearing our conversation. I knew that was her intent in the first place, and I silently hated myself for giving in to her so quickly.

"I did talk to her. Well kind of. Then she…well let's just say she threw a curve ball at me."

"I know what she did. And honestly, it was the bravest thing she's ever done." My eyebrows immediately scrunched together. _Did she honestly tell Quinn about…about what was going on?_

"You don't know shit Fabray," I opted on playing the ignorance card, hoping I could some how get out of this conversation before I literally had to excuse myself to the bathroom to release my pain.

"Maybe I don't know what's actually going on, but I do know she cares about you. A lot. Cares so much in fact, that she's worried to the point that she would ask someone to help. Brittany knows you. She knows you're a strong person. She would never ask someone to help you unless she really thought it was necessary. I may not know whom she asked or what she's so worried about, but S I can tell something's going on. I'm not an idiot. And if it has something to do with Alex and…"

"Shut up!" I yelled, feeling my eyes mist over instantly. "Just stop!" I screamed, causing many heads to turn toward us. Quinn froze in horror. Before she could say another word I was vacating the hallway, retreating to the girl's bathroom on the second floor.

The thought of skipping school, and more specifically glee, was very tempting, but I knew my father had off on Wednesdays. Wiping my tear stained cheeks, I applied a fresh coat of cover-up before heading back out.

I avoided as many people as I could. I made sure to get to my classes as soon as the bell rang so no one would have time to talk to me. I didn't each lunch. It was actually pretty easy. Until glee club. I sighed, taking a deep breath, before heading into the room. Taking a seat in the back, making sure to look busy or uninterested in anything anyone had to offer. I noticed Brittany and Quinn walk in together, and my stomach automatically plummeted. I avoided eye contact, forcing my face to look emotionless as Mr. Schue began.

However, before he could even start with what ever monologue he had prepared about his sucky life and how happy he was to be teaching or whatever, Brittany's hand rose in the air. "Yes Brittany?"

"Mr. Schue, may I?" she questioned, pointing to the front of the room. He looked confused, as did everyone else, before he nodded and moved to sit down. I noticed Quinn give her an encouraging squeeze on her shoulder, and my heart instantly broke. This wasn't gonna be good at all. "I've prepared a song I'd like to share." She paused, her hands fidgeting nervously in front of her as her eyes skirted over the classroom.

The music began, and her eyes finally landed on me, every ounce of sadness evident with just one look from her. As the notes reached my ear, I had to turn away.

_You and me_

_We used to be together_

_Everyday together, always. _

I could feel her eyes upon me, but I refused to meet them.

_I really feel_

_That I'm losing my best friend_

_I can't believe this could be, the end._

Her voice broke a little, and I knew she was trying hard to hold back sobs.

_Don't speak_

_I know just what you're saying_

_So please stop explaining_

_Don't tell me cause it hurts. _

My eyes stayed focused on my lap, my attention upon my hands as if they had something important written on them. I didn't have to look up to know that more of them were beginning to look at me.

_Our memories_

_Well, they can be inviting_

_But some are altogether, mighty frightening. _

In my peripheral I could see her moving, and I was just praying to whoever was listening that she wasn't gonna come up to me.

_Don't speak_

_I know what you're thinking_

_I don't need your reasons_

_Don't tell me cause it hurts._

When I quickly looked up to see where she was, I immediately wished I hadn't. Her eyes were laced with tears, threatening to spill at any moment. They pierced mine, forcing me to continue to look at her as she continued.

_It's all ending_

_I gotta stop pretending, who we are. _

_You and me_

_I can see us dying, are we?_

Her voice cracked, choking on the words as her tears were finally freed.

_Don't speak_

_I know just what you're saying_

_So please stop explaining_

_Don't tell me cause it hurts_

_No, no, no_

_Don't speak_

_I know what you're thinking_

_I don't need your reasons_

_Don't tell me cause it hurts. _

The song faded as her cries softly echoed through the room. Everyone's faces were bent toward their own laps, unconsciously aware that this moment wasn't about them and they didn't know how to deal with the fact that they just witnessed it. She looked at me, heart broken, waiting for an answer. For an approval that everything was okay. That everything was going to be okay.

A single tear crawled down my cheek. "I..I can't. I'm sorry." I whispered before standing, grabbing my things, and running from the claustrophobic room. It was the third time I had fled from her in two weeks. And I was pretty sure she wasn't going to be giving me the chance for a fourth. The look in her eyes screamed with every ounce of her heart that was still in tact. And as my footsteps filtered from the room, I knew that there wouldn't be pieces left for another chance.


End file.
